


Let You Get Away

by killjoysmakesomefuckingnoise



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 19:40:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoysmakesomefuckingnoise/pseuds/killjoysmakesomefuckingnoise
Summary: Pete and Mikey meet up, long after the summer of 2005.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey to whoever is reading this! thank you for reading, this is my 2nd ever fanfic i have published so any feedback is really appreciated!!
> 
> i was really inspired by Electric Century's Let You Get Away, as well as Pete's many love songs about Mikey Way :)

Pete walked down the street, hands clenched tightly. He avoided all eye contact with anyone, his eyes were firmly fixed on the path in front of him. His shoulders were tense, barely moving as he walked. His breathes were heavy, as though he had been running a marathon. It had been a while since he felt this- jittery. Not even performing in front of thousands made him feel this way. In fact, there was only one person in the whole world that could.

 

The call came a few days before. He hadn’t thought much about it before he picked it up. It was probably just another business call, or a call from one of his FOB band mates. Nothing special. He had picked it up casually.

 

“Sup dude,” he drawled, expecting Pat or Andy to reply.

 

There was silence on the other end of the line… before: “It’s me.”

 

Pete hadn’t heard that voice in - he didn’t even know when. Summer of 2005 memories came flooding in - the pain, the joy, the heartbreak. Images flashed before his eyes- brown crinkled eyes, the summer sun on pale skin, his hand brushing brown hair.

 

“Mikey?” He choked out. This could not be happening. This was not fucking possible. Never in a million years, would Michael James Way be call-

 

“Pete.” That word was enough to take him back years ago. To a world of summer, to hidden kisses behind closed doors and whispered words in corridors. He felt the world spin as time seemed to slow down. He remembered this feeling, of an eternity with Mikey, of slow languid afternoons filled with nothing but sweet and slow touches and kisses.

 

Pete leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. He could faintly hear Mikey’s breath on the other end. He remembered those breaths; how heavy and hard they could be when they were stealing kisses.

 

“You there?” Mikey cleared his throat.

 

“Yea, I am. I just- “Pete fumbled for the words. He sighed. “I’m here.” He paused. “I’m always here.” The last sentence slipped out before he could stop himself. He silently cursed at himself. Why the fuck did he say-

 

“Yeah man. I just called to say that I’m in Chicago, for a couple of days. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up? You know, just to catch up with old friends?” Mikey rushed through the questions.

 

 _Old friends?_ Pete wanted to laugh. They were so much more than that, weren’t they? Is that who he was to Mikey? An old friend? Someone that you caught up with once every few years? Just some old acquaintance?

 

_Pete’s eyes followed Michael James Way across the room. There was something about him that drew Pete’s gaze. Maybe, it was the way he carried himself, the way he tried to take up as little space as possible. Or the way he never seemed fazed by anything, his stony demeanor never cracking._

 

_It was the summer of 2005, and Fall Out Boy was touring with Warped Tour, along My Chemical Romance. FOB would always play first, followed by MCR on the same stage. That gave Pete the chance to check the band out. They were an interesting band, but it was their bassist that really caught Pete’s attention._

 

_Pete had known Mikey for exactly five days. Well “known” isn’t really quite the word for it. They had been formally introduced, along with other members of the band. That was about it. The most Pete had ever gotten out from Mikey was a quick nod as MCR was readying for their set._

 

_Something in Pete wanted more. And he didn’t know more of what. He wanted to know what made Mikey Way tick._

 

_He glanced over to where Mikey was sitting with the rest of his bandmates. His brother, Gerard, was laughing with the guitarist. What was his name? Frank? Or was it Ray? Pete didn’t know, and frankly didn’t care._

 

_“Yo, I’m gonna go over for a while,” Pete excused himself from his own bandmates, walking over to the corner that MCR took up. Patrick looked up at Pete, as though he could predict what he was going to do. Pat did that a lot these days._

 

_His heart thudded in his chest. What the fuck was he going to say? He couldn’t fuck up, not in front of Mikey._

 

_“Hey! You all played a great set!” He smiled at them, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Fuck. Why did he say that? It was so fucking awkwa-_

 

_“Thanks man,” Gerard smiled back at him. Pete’s heart did a backflip as he noticed Mikey’s earthy brown eyes on him._

 

_“You’re the bassist, right? Mikey?” The words tumbled out of Pete’s mouth. “Loved your bass lines man, they were fucking tight.” Pete cringed internally at those words. God, he looked like an idiot, didn’t he?”_

 

_Mikey’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected compliment. For a moment, the briefest of smiles tugged on his lips as he looked at Pete, before his eyes dropped to stare back at the floor._

 

_As Pete walked back to his bandmates, he couldn’t stop the grin on his face. It was fucking stupid. But no one had made Pete Wentz feel that way with a smile before. This was going to be an interesting summer, wasn’t it?_

 

Pete wanted to punch something.

 

“Yeah dude, old friends,” Pete could hear the bitterness in his own voice.

 

He heard Mikey take a breath on the other end of the line. “Look Pete, I- “

 

Pete cut him off. “I would like that. Two old friends just hanging out, am I right?”

 

 

 

Pete could remember the phone call in exact detail. Every breath he took, every word he spoke. he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his head down, as he walked through the streets of Chicago. He could feel the anticipation building, the dread. He could feel every jitter in his chest, every dull thud of his heart pounding furiously.

 

He turned the corner, spying the bar that the meeting was supposed to take place. He could feel his hands grow clammy. The dull ache in his chest seemed to spread throughout his body, from his chest to his arms and to his legs. He hated this feeling. He hated feeling out of control.

 

He exhaled once. Twice. His heart was racing. This was it.

 

He pushed open the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_Cling!_

 

The sound of the door opening made Mikey look up. He had been sitting there impatiently for 15 minutes. He never was on time, was he?

 

He turned to see - the man before him was older, definitely more weathered. Gone were the hoodies and dark eyeliner. But his eyes were the same. Those fiery passionate eyes that burned with the rage of the sun. The same eyes that Mikey had drowned in many summers ago. Those eyes stared fiercely into his. Those haven’t changed.

 

 

_Mikey’s hands travelled down Pete’s back, pulling him even closer. He could smell Pete, taste him on his tongue. He gave in to Pete’s every demand, pushed against the wall of the locked tour bus._

 

_He vaguely felt Pete’s fingers deftly undo his belt. He could feel every movement of Pete’s fingers as they neared –_

 

_Mikey pushed Pete away, his breath still coming hard. He realised with a start exactly what the fuck was going on. His belt, almost undone, his hair, mussed up from Pete’s fingers running through it, his glasses, fogged up from their hot breaths mixing. What the fuck was he doing?_

 

_He staggered away from the wall, desperately trying to fix his hair._

 

_“Mikey -” Pete started, but Mikey cut him off sharply._

 

_“Don’t.”_

 

_Mikey sank into a chair, his heart still racing. Pete was leaning against the wall, his hands behind his head, his expression unreadable._

 

_His eyes unconsciously trailed up Pete’s body, following every curve, every angle, before resting on his eyes. Those eyes. Mikey had seen the fire behind those hazel eyes. He had been on the receiving end of that steely gaze as he stood on sidelines, watching Pete’s band play. Pete scared Mikey, in more ways than one._

 

_He had also seen something else behind them. The way Pete looked at him, his eyes soft, like melted chocolate. Like Mikey hung the stars in the sky. He had noticed Pete glancing at him like that when he thought Mikey wasn’t looking._

 

_Something about the way Pete was standing made Mikey want to go over and run his hands down his body, to taste Pete in his mouth, to press his body against his. He wanted to feel Pete’s warmth against him, wanted Pete’s hands on his body, wanted Pete’s tongue in his mouth._

 

_But Mikey didn’t._

 

He pushed those thoughts out of his head.

 

Mikey reached out for a handshake, but Pete had other plans.

 

“Dude, good to see you,” Pete grabbed his back, hugging Mikey firmly. There was no trace of - no trace of anything - in his voice. He sounded polite, like he was greeting an old friend. But Mikey had heard him on the phone. He had heard how bitter, how shocked, Pete was. Either Pete really didn’t care, or he had somehow gotten better at hiding his emotions. Mikey assumed it was more of the latter.

 

They pulled apart, standing awkwardly. Mikey shifted his feet, suddenly conscious of everyone around them. Where they looking at the two of them? Did they assume-

 

His thoughts were interrupted by Pete’s voice. “Let’s get a couple of drinks.”

 

He dutifully followed Pete further back into the bar. This seemed familiar. Following Pete around, as though he knew everything. Or maybe it had been the other way around? The memories were hazy now, but Mikey still remembered how it felt. How warm and comfortable every minute with Pete was. How the minutes seemed to stretch out into hours, the hours into days. They had spent an eternity together. And they had spent an eternity trying to forget it.

 

The back was more secluded. Mikey glanced around as he sat on one of the bar stools next to Pete.


	3. Chapter 3

“So how’s life, man?” Pete asked as they got their drinks. His eyes travelled down Mikey. He was - was different. Different in a good way. This didn’t surprise Pete. Of course they still followed each other on the different social media accounts, but for once, this change - this everything - seemed real. Mikey was real, not some image formed by pixels. Mikey was here.

 

Mikey chuckled. “It’s been wild. I’ve been playing bass for this new band Waterparks. Started my own band,” he grabbed his drink. Pete watched his hands, those familiar hands. He still remembered how they felt like, travelling down his spine, remembered how those fingers felt laced between his.

 

It took a second to realise that Mikey expected some sort of response. Pete cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah man, that’s cool.” He cursed silently. _That’s cool?_ He struggled to recover. “Haven’t heard your new band though, what’s it called?”

 

“Electric Century. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, you know,” Mikey glanced up at Pete, before dropping his gaze back to his drink.

 

Pete nodded, not quite knowing what to say. This was new. Not knowing what to say to Mikey. Well, maybe it wasn’t.He remembered the awkward silences between them, after coming down from a high, lying naked next to each other. How they avoided each other’s gazes for days after incidents like that, so that they couldn’t see the longing in each other’s eyes. And how they somehow always ended up in the same van, the same storage closet together a few days later.

 

 

_Pete stared up at the ceiling of the tour bus, still trying to get his breath steady. He knew it was useless. He was always a mess around Mikey Way._

 

_He turned his head slightly to his right. Mikey’s eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling steadily. He always looked so peaceful and young when he was asleep. Pete could see why Gerard was so protective of his brother. Still, Pete didn’t know why Gerard was so testy with him, since he was supposedly fucking his own guitarist._

 

_As gently as he could, Pete reached over to brush a strand of Mikey’s hair away. He let his eyes linger on Mikey’s face. His face was angular, sharp. Pete ran a finger lightly down his cheek._

 

_How did this happen? Pete didn’t believe in the “love at first sight” bullshit. Things didn’t work like that. But with Mikey, Pete didn’t know anymore. Everything about their relationship was different. Something had drawn them together from the very start, pulled them together. Mikey’s fingers laced through his, his mouth against his, his moans in his ear as Pete kissed his neck, everything felt right. Felt natural._

 

_He wanted to scream to the world that Michael James Way was his. That he was the guy that Mikey made out with in locked tour buses, hidden closets. That Pete was the one Mikey blessed with his smiles, his rare, genuine laughs, his kisses. That Pete was Mikey’s, forever._

 

_But that wasn’t the time for that. Gently, Pete rolled out of bed, getting dressed. As he was about to leave, he spied a marker sitting on the side table. He picked it up, twirling it between his fingers._

 

_Kneeling besides Mikey, he traced the words ever so lightly, “You make me wanna fall in love and get stuck.”_

 

_Pete put the marker back down, walking to the door. His hand on the knob, he stole once last glance at Mikey, before walking out._

 

 

Maybe his memory was hazy. Maybe the summer heat had clouded his memories, softened them. Maybe they were never friends? Ex-lovers, sure. But friends?

 


	4. Chapter 4

Mikey cleared his throat, his hands grasped tightly around his glass. He was beginning to regret asking Pete for a drink. Seeing his face, hearing his voice - Maybe some things were best left in the past. He hadn’t listened to a single Fall Out Boy song since - since he realised what they were about. He had listened to one, and he just knew. Knew what that song - who that song was about.

 

He still remembered the writing on his arm every morning, every time he fell asleep next to Pete. It was always some declaration of love, some metaphor. Not the last time though. That morning in Northampton, something else was on his arm. Pete had left before Mikey woke, like he always did. Never staying long enough for Mikey to confront him about anything. And Mikey never did.

 

He also remembered the arguments. It wasn’t screaming. There were no big fights, no throwing of furniture. But there was the coldness, the glares, the pointed words, implied meanings behind sentences. It was always Pete that started it. It wasn’t Mikey shifting the blame or anything. It was just the truth.

 

Pete was the one that threw himself into the relationship, heart and soul. Threw himself off the deep end. Mikey used to love that about him. The spontaneity of it all. It was also what he hated.

 

 

 

_Pete had his head in his hands, refusing to look at Mikey, to even speak to him. And it was annoying Mikey. This had been going on for five minutes now, ever since Mikey had suggested they tone their relationship down, take a step back._

 

_Pete hadn’t taken it well. Evidently. Trust Pete Wentz to throw everything into a summer fling._

 

_Mikey sighed audibly. Pete still didn’t look up._

 

_The silence was deafening. Mikey hated this. He hated breaking Pete’s heart, hated how upset he was at himself._

 

_He knew he should have listened to Gerard. Gerard had told him to stay away, stay away from the bassist from Fall Out Boy, with his golden eyes and charming smiles. But he hadn’t. He had ignored his brother, decided to take a chance on this cocky, charismatic fuck boy. Gerard was always right. He should have stayed the fuck away from Pete Wentz._

 

_“What do you mean this isn’t real?” Pete’s defeated voice made Mikey turn back to him. He was looking at Mikey now, his brown eyes hard, accusing. “This is real, Mikey. What the fuck is this other than real?” There was a sharp edge to his voice, as though Pete was daring him to disagree._

 

_“I don’t know,” Mikey admitted, his face betraying no emotion. It was his turn to stare at the floor. “Maybe we were lonely or confused or -”_

 

_Pete laughed derisively. “I didn’t know loneliness led to me fucking you in the toilet yesterday.”_

 

_Mikey clenched his fists. Why did Pete always have to bring this kind of shit up? He didn’t know what to make of their… he didn’t even know what to call it. He didn’t even know what they were. Were they even friends? Or did Pete just use him for –_

 

_He shoved those thoughts out of his mind. Sometimes, he wished he wasn’t so passive, wished he was more like Pete._

 

_He had seen Pete with other girls, trying not to stare as he flirted with them. Pete had caught his eyes once, as he teased some girls that had come up to him. Mikey had looked away as fast as he could, praying that his eyes didn’t betray the emotions he felt. He didn’t want Pete to see –_

 

_Pete had found him later that day. He had come up from behind, wrapping his arms around Mikey’s waist. They didn’t talk, their desperate kisses said it all._

 

_“Dude.” Pete’s voice snapped him out from his reverie. “Fucking say something.”_

 

_Mikey didn’t know what to say. Somewhere deep in his head, a voice begged him, screamed at him to say anything. To say that he loved Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz. That he would have stayed with him forever. That he didn’t want this summer to end. To say that this relationship was something to him, that he wanted to hide it, protect it from the world, from the harsh words, from the sneers and laughs._

 

_He glanced out at the window. He could see other bands, warped tour attendees milling around. He saw Gerard walk past, Frank in tow. What would these people say if they found out?_

 

_“You don’t care, do you?” Pete Wentz snapped at him. “You don’t fucking care about this.”_

 

_Mikey turned to see Pete staring at him, his normally soft brown eyes hard with anger. There it was again, the fire behind them. Mikey wanted to drown in those eyes forever._

 

_Pete was the first to break his gaze, stomping out of the bus. Mikey watched him walk away, his anger apparent in his face, in his strides. It scared Mikey that he could read Pete so well, every small gesture, every expression, every small tick._

 

_Maybe Mikey Way was crazy. Crazy to let Pete Wentz walk away._

 

 

“So, how’s the band?” He found himself saying. He tore his eyes away from his drink, only to find Pete’s amber eyes already fixed on him. Something’s didn’t change, did they?


	5. Chapter 5

Pete found himself staring into glossy chestnut-brown eyes. The same measured, calm eyes - eyes that didn’t betray a single emotion - that Pete had fallen for years ago, in the summer heat. He felt his heart jump in his chest, his breath catching. Almost 10 years on and those eyes could still make him feel the same way.

 

“We’re good, just finished touring.” Pete matched those eyes with his own, almost daring Mikey to continue.

 

Mikey was the first one to look away. Pete blinked, looking away. Something’s really didn’t change. He hated it.

 

They continued with their small talk, keeping to safe topics.

 

 

“It’s been good meeting you,” Mikey smiled, sticking out a hand for a handshake. Again, Pete had other plans. His arms barely touching Mikey, he patted him firmly on the back, like a friend would.

 

“It’s been awesome man,” Pete replied with a polite smile. They stood in front of each other awkwardly. There was nothing left to say.

 

“Well, I’ll see you around,” Mikey smiled, a small smile that Pete couldn’t tell if it was forced or not. He turned, walking up the street.

 

Pete stood there a while more, his eyes still on Mikey’s retreating back. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. But he knew, he just knew, that 10 years ago, Mikey Way would have looked back. But this wasn’t “10 years ago”. This was now. And Mikey did not look back once.


End file.
